Another Reason
by StarFormerAdira
Summary: Why America watches horror movies, and why he calls up England in the middle of them. Neither nation could've guessed why, but it was obvious all along. And who knows, when they're together, things might just rise to the surface that no-one would've expected them to admit. England/America, slash.


**A/N: So me and m'beta GoldenJuiceBox were chatting and she was talking about Slenderman and how she overreacted when one of her friends thought they saw him, and one thing led to another, and she requested a fluffy USUK fic where America got scared at a horror movie and called up England! How could I say no? **

* * *

**Another Reason**

Alfred buried his face in the pillow, his muscular arms squeezing the stuffing out of it, but he kept one eye open, staring intently at the screen as the movie played out. He was shaking so hard that the whole couch was vibrating, but he had been glued to his seat ever since the opening credits. He hadn't even gotten up to get something to eat.

This horror film was a long one, all right, and Alfred was determined to watch it through to the end.

However, by the time the third ghost had shown up and the fifth vampire had drained his tenth victim, the back door was looking really inviting.

Maybe if he ran over to Matthew's house...if he could remember where it was...or Kiku, he was good with reassuring him when it came to scary stuff –

Alfred whimpered as he hugged the pillow closer. He would've done all that, and more, if it wasn't for the fact that he was sure there was a vampire lurking under the sofa and it would get him if he stood up. All he had to do was sit this out, and then he could laugh about it later...

Just then, a zombie shambled onto the screen, red eyes glowing and chunks of skin sliding down its chin, and Alfred immediately bolted.

He found himself in the dining room, and curled up under the table, shielding his body with the pillow. The phone was only a few feet away, and zombies moved slowly, didn't they, at least, that one did.

As Alfred shivered behind his trusty pillow, he found himself thinking back to the happy, bright time before this horror film had been introduced into his life. He remembered holding it, laughing at the morbid description on the back, pushing the doubts to the back of his mind, and then suddenly finding himself thinking of something – some_one _else – entirely.

_Does Arthur watch horror movies?_

Alfred had shaken his head. Arthur, the perfect gentleman, probably spent his evenings reading those boring old classics and drinking cup after cup of that stinking tea.

But in the back of his mind, the truly intelligent part that he so often kept hidden from the others, had began to devise a plan, a plan worth of the American's undivided attention.

Kiku didn't really watch horror movies with him anymore. Matthew was always remembered too far into it, when a phone was out of reach and Alfred was sure there was a ghost hovering over it. Feliciano would freak out worse than him, and he didn't even want to think about Francis and wandering hands in the dark. He knew the Frenchman spent _his _evenings complementing himself, and he really didn't need a running commentary over his film when he was trying to concentrate.

Ivan, no – scarier than the movie. Yao, no – they weren't close enough. Germany, probably not – he wouldn't understand the reason of a horror movie. Lovino – no, just because he wouldn't want to, and he spent most of his evenings with Antonio anyway.

Alfred had grinned triumphantly. That only left one nation. A nation who, by some silly coincidence or whatever, was constantly a nagging sense in the back of his brain. He didn't know why, but he was always aware of Arthur, England, Britain, the UK – aware of him as if they were brothers, connected by the same country, which of course they weren't. But it felt like that.

Well, they _had _been connected once...but Alfred really wasn't going to go into that right now.

Guilt was a strong motivator for stupid things.

Arthur wouldn't come to Alfred's house if the other didn't have a good reason, so Alfred had put the DVD in and settled down to wait, glancing at the clock every few minutes. He had designated nine o'clock an appropriate time to call, but he had gotten caught up in the terror of the movie, and forgotten to check until it was half past ten. By then, however, he had been too scared to move.

Now, Alfred eyed his watch in the dark gloom that shrouded the dining room. It glowed in the dark. His watch was cool. And it was eleven.

It wasn't _at_ _all _easy to get Arthur over here. Alfred had actually wanted to watch the movie. He was tough, he was America, he could handle it. The thing with Arthur had just kinda been a sidetrack, another reason for doing it.

Alfred hadn't actually known why he wanted his former brother over here, but now he did. He just wanted to see him. They hardly ever talked nowadays without ending up in a disagreement, and Arthur was a very private guy. If Alfred just walked up to him and asked how the economy was doing, he'd become very suspicious and probably punch him in the face for good measure.

And Arthur's punches _hurt_.

No. Not just physically. Although they did that too. But when Arthur punched him, whether he was really pissed off or he was just being playful and was in a good mood, Alfred could feel a small twinge in his chest, like Arthur had reached inside and punched his heart, right where the Englishman was meant to be. Like he had just rammed his fist into the empty space that was the exact shape of the small British island, and he hadn't even done it on purpose.

Alfred whimpered as he heard something in the ceiling creak, and then inspiration came to him in a flash.

_My super-awesome mobile phone!_

He knew where it was. It was above his head, on the table, and it was closer than his landline. All he had to do was edge out, and reach up, and then retreat...

_But what if there's a vampire there?_

It was weird, but the minute Alfred imagined that – highly unlikely, admittedly – scenario, he imagined what Arthur would say to him if he had heard that thought.

_Aww, is the hero getting scared?_

Alfred gritted his teeth together, adjusted his pillow in his arms and shuffled out, moving along the floor on the seat of his jeans, constantly scanning his peripheral vision for any creepy things that shouldn't be there.

He felt like Tom Cruise. It was terrifying, but great at the same time.

Peeking over the top of the wooden table, he spied his phone, lying there innocently, gleaming in the light of the still-on TV. Alfred resisted the temptation to look at it and reached out, his hand sliding silently along the surface until he found the familiar shape of his mobile and ducked back into his new-found lair, quickly turning it on and sighing as the familiar background came into view.

It was the McDonald's sign. But that wasn't important right now.

He came to his contacts, and scrolled though them until he found '_england aka arthur aka british dude!_' Sparing a moment to grin manically at what Arthur would look like if he found that this was his name on Alfred's phone, the American pressed the call button and held it up to his ear, immediately on the alert again as it began ringing.

The dining room _looked _deserted...but then you couldn't see ghosts unless they wanted you to, could you? Or until they were behind you...

Alfred started shivering again, squeezing his eyes shut and humming a random song frantically to keep himself from hearing the creepy noises coming from the house.

His phone kept ringing and just when Alfred was feeling the bitter sting of disappointment and embarrassment, Arthur picked up.

"Yes, what?" he snapped.

"Arthur?" Alfred whispered tentatively.

"No, it's Ludwig," Arthur retorted, and Alfred winced. This wasn't off to a good start. "Of course it's Arthur! What do you want? And why the hell are you whispering?"

"Ghosts," Alfred offered up, by way of explanation.

Wait a second – perhaps if he listened hard, he could hear Arthur smack his head against his desk again. "Don't tell me that you're watching horror films again."

"I'm America," Alfred told him weakly, smiling hopefully.

Arthur scoffed. "Good for you. Now leave me alone."

"WAIT!" Alfred yelled, and then froze as it echoed around the house. Now the vampires would know someone was here! "Please, please, come over. I'm really scared. I am under the table. All I have is a pillow. And if I come out, the zombies will eat me alive!"

"Good God..."

"Pleeeeeeease, Arthur! Please, please, PLEASE!"

"Why should I? I'm having a perfectly good evening. I don't need to waste it by coming over and trying to talk you out from under your table."

"And then you have to stay with me while I watch the rest of the movie."

"Oh, no! You must be bloody crazy. Ask Matthew."

Alfred frowned. "He's, uh, out."

"Are you sure?" Arthur's voice was tight with suspicion. "Did you even _call _him?"

_Arthur, I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you. Please come over._

"Yes," Alfred replied, sounding hurt. "He said to leave a message."

"Hmm." Arthur didn't speak for a long time. "What's the movie?"

"I don't know," Alfred answered, still keeping his voice down. "You can check when you come over."

"You don't know?"

"I don't _remember_. Something about gore and supernatural stuff."

"That sounds like your type of thing," Arthur tutted.

_Arthur, I think I love you. Please come over. I need to see you._

"...so?"

"No."

"Aww, come on!"

"You got yourself into this, you can get yourself out."

"Yeah, but...if you're here, the zombies will go away."

There was a silence on the other end of the line. Alfred didn't know whether that was bad or good.

"It's starting to rain," Arthur murmured distantly. The other country frowned, and pulled the phone away from his ear, listening. The faint pattering of droplets on the roof was just audible above the dramatic music coming from the TV.

"Oh, yeah," the American said unconvincingly. "It's, uh, raining."

"And I think I just saw some lightning."

Panic made Alfred freeze. "You did? Really? That's just great! What am I gonna do now? I'm gonna be stuck under here until morning! If I even _survive _until then!"

_I remember what you used to do when there was a thunderstorm...are you trying to give yourself an excuse to come over?_

A sigh, muffled by the crackly connection. "I'll be over in five minutes."

Arthur ended the call before Alfred could either thank him or ask him whether it was possible to speed that up to two minutes.

* * *

_Alfred, you idiot. I love you. I will always come over._

* * *

Alfred timed him. It was four minutes and fifty-nine seconds before the doorbell rang.

Should he shout for him to come in? He couldn't, then the vampire might take it as a sign to attack! But he couldn't step out, either, then the vampire would attack _anyway_...damn it, now what was he going to do?

Arthur, however, was accustomed to his former colony's ways and simply picked the lock until it clicked open and he stepped inside. He had brought a paperclip – he knew that Alfred locked the doors before watching a horror movie. He replaced it in his pocket, bent out of shape.

"Alfred?" he called. The shoulders of his jacket were sprinkled wet with rain, his hair already soaked in the short time it had taken him to run from his house to the car and then from the car to Alfred's house.

A small squeak answered him, and he stepped into the living room, looking around in confusion before turning the TV off and the lights on.

Alfred sighed in relief as the comforting glow of electric lights found him under the table and chased his fears away. Arthur approached and knelt down, unable to see the American due to the pillow he was suffocating.

"Alfred," he began, reaching out and gently touching a white hand. "Alfred, come on."

Alfred willingly followed the touch and unfolded himself from under the table, banging his head on the edge as he came up but not seeming to notice. His smile was so bright, it was unfair, and Arthur felt himself melt as he looked at him.

_Why is he looking at me like that?_

_Hide. Hide behind everything, like you've always done, and it'll be okay._

"Is everything okay now?" Arthur asked, raising his eyebrows.

Alfred nodded happily.

"Good. Can I go now?"

Alfred shook his head happily.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "I know you want to watch the bloody movie until the end, but I don't want to. I'd like to sleep soundly tonight, thank you very much. Finish it tomorrow, in the daytime."

Alfred pouted. "But I won't be as tough then!"

The Englishman moved fast, gripping Alfred's hands, making him drop the pillow. "Alfred, you idiot, no-one doubts that you're tough! You don't need to watch all these films to prove it!"

_But if I don't, I won't have a reason for asking you around anymore..._

"It's only a little more, I promise. I know how long it is. Half an hour more, max, I swear. I was timing it. I kept looking at the clock."

Arthur fumed silently. _My tea's getting cold. I was in the middle of a book. And this wanker calls me up because he thinks there are ghosts in his house..._

_...and, like always, I give in._

"Half an hour?" he repeated dully.

Alfred bit his lip eagerly. "Yeah, really!"

_What am I getting myself into?_

Fifty-five minutes later saw Arthur's jacket steaming gently on the radiator, Alfred staring at the screen in horror and Arthur trying to keep himself from nodding off. This film was really one of the worst he'd ever seen. The special effects looked like they had been done by a kid in reception and the plot line kept spiralling away into space. Alfred, however, seemed to be enjoying it.

He had started off at the other end of the sofa, but, over time, had edged over until he was practically in Arthur's lap, his head on his chest, both arms wrapped around his waist. His hair kept tickling Arthur's chin and he was getting pins and needles in his leg, but...

_So move already!_

_I can't. I can't. I'm not going to move._

At that moment, Alfred turned and buried half his face in Arthur's shirt, but he kept watching, straining to see out of the corners of his eyes, as his grip tightened on Arthur's hips. He suddenly pulled away and turned around, nestling between Arthur's legs with his back to the Englishman's stomach. Arthur would've blushed, but then he saw why he had done that – Alfred's nails were bitten down to the quick, small slivers of red showing through between the flesh-coloured surfaces. They looked so painful, and now Alfred was raising a hand, a finger sliding between his lips to his teeth...

Arthur reached down and gripped his wrist, holding it fast. Alfred gave a little start of surprise and then looked up at him in confusion.

Arthur tilted his head. "Don't bite your nails."

_You used to say that._

"I was?" Alfred asked. "Oh...right. Sorry."

_But I didn't used to say that._

_I used to dismiss you. I used to forget that all you wanted was my good health._

Arthur could've let go of his hand, but he didn't. He stayed still, his body held fast under Alfred's gaze. He wanted to blink, to turn away, maybe even to apologize, but then Alfred reached up with his free arm.

A shrill scream blasted from the TV's speakers, but neither nation turned to look.

The tip of one of Alfred's fingers, the nail almost inexistent, brushed gently across Arthur's cheek, deliberately avoiding his lips, moving higher, past his nose and his forehead, where Alfred secured his grip in Arthur's hair. Arthur leant forwards automatically, as the pressure was applied, and now he was hovering over Alfred's face, his breath silent but his heartbeat going a thousand beats an hour.

"You have such beautiful eyes," Alfred breathed, staring deep into their emerald depths. He looked nothing more than curious, but excitement was making his actions stiff, and Arthur could see the tell-tale glint in his own vibrantly-coloured eyes.

The Englishman leant closer, closing his eyes, trembling in anticipation of the obvious and yet in fear of the rejection that might just come. Then he felt a soft press of something warm on his lips, and the blush he had repressed flooded his face.

Alfred's breath was caressing his skin, and he was shaking almost as hard as he was, but the kiss continued, each country getting more confident with each passing second. Alfred moved his mouth clumsily, but he copied Arthur, syncing and yet contrasting at the same. As the Englishman let go of his other wrist, he raised it, placing it on the back of Arthur's neck, pulling him down further. The flavour of his mouth – something that Alfred only realised now that he had spent ages imagining – was so damn _addictive_, like the sweetest thing he had ever had the privilege of tasting, and all Alfred wanted to do was lie here and kiss Arthur for the rest of his life.

As the American's lips parted, Arthur quickly took advantage, tracing his tongue around their outline, requesting entrance. Alfred arched his back, moving closer, and Arthur's spine was a smooth curve as he bent over the blue-eyed nation. Alfred's sharp intake of breath was like music to Arthur's ears as he felt that smooth, moist tongue explore his mouth, and his fingers dug into the nape of Arthur's neck at the sensation, completely disregarding the initial discomfort it caused the remains of his fingernails.

Arthur's hand slid down his lover's neck, the warm friction of skin on skin making him shudder, and slowly began to unbutton Alfred's shirt. Alfred gasped as he realised what Arthur meant to do, but he didn't stop it – instead, he removed his hands and began to return the favour, yanking Arthur's collar open as their kiss turned more passionate.

Their lips openly warred, ferocious and uncaring as each fought to get a little more of the other. Alfred's shirt was hanging open, exposing his smooth, strong chest, and every time Arthur's hand grazed his stomach, he gave out a little whimper and bucked his hips.

Arthur smirked into the kiss as Alfred managed, with shaking yet dexterous hands, to rip the rest of his buttons apart and open his eyes, hungrily drinking in the sight before him.

Arthur pulled back, trading the best kind of contact he'd had all day for another. Alfred took the hint and turned around, moving up to straddle the other country's hips, ducking his head to seductively lick along Arthur's jaw. Arthur tipped his head back, wrapping his arms around Alfred's neck to tug him closer, letting out a breathy moan as he felt the wet lips trace up to his left ear.

Alfred breathed in the achingly familiar scent of Arthur's hair, imprinted into his memory from all those reassuring hugs, and he blinked away a tear from the corner of his eye.

Arthur gripped Alfred's collar and used it to yank his shirt down his sleeves, Alfred pulling away from his throat to help, tossing it onto the floor where it landed in an ungainly heap. Their panting mingled together, their chests heaving with both the tension and the relief that this passion brought. Alfred slid a hand underneath Arthur's shirt, brushing across his heart, to pull it half off his shoulders. Arthur leant forwards to help, but Alfred impatiently gave it up as a bad job, and Arthur found himself inches away from his lover's perfect skin.

Alfred let out a surprised gasp as he felt Arthur trace his tongue over his chest, circling his nipples, making a beautiful shudder travel down his spine. His back arced as he threw his head back, pressing himself closer, feeling his trousers become annoyingly restricting.

The hand that Arthur wasn't using to sensually stroke up and down Alfred's back was, at that moment, carefully pulling on the American's belt buckle. Alfred wanted to help him, but he couldn't stop revelling in the attention Arthur was currently giving. A bead of sweat trickled down his brow as he let out small grunts, moving as close to Arthur as he could, determined to get more of that talented tongue.

Finally, Arthur managed to free the other nation's belt and immediately began to pull down his jeans, but, since Alfred was currently distracted, he decided to seize the opportunity. Tightening his grip around Alfred's waist, pulling away for a second, he swiftly reversed their positions, so Alfred landed on the couch with a graceful thud and Arthur triumphantly sat back, deliberately grinding his crotch against Alfred's.

"Arthur!" Alfred huffed, staring up at him in confusion. Arthur leant forward, their bare torsos sandwiched together, and put his lips as close to Alfred's ear as he could.

"I want to be your first time," he murmured, before licking all the way from the American's earlobe up to the top of his ear. Alfred felt all – well, most of – the blood in his body rush up to his cheeks, and he stared at Arthur as he pulled away.

"H-how did you k-know?" he stuttered, embarrassment making his voice waver.

Arthur grinned mischievously, and Alfred knew he could very happily orgasm right then and there and go to heaven, just because of that damn sexy expression.

"Because I know you," he said simply, before sitting up, yanking his belt off and beginning to struggle with his trousers. Alfred lay there, feeling the heat from the other's body and still not quite believing the situation he was in. After he had gotten over his initial shock that Arthur somehow knew he was still a virgin, he began to help, mainly by shedding his own bottoms and discarding them onto the floor to join his shirt.

Alfred groaned in relief as he freed his throbbing erection and sprawled back on the sofa, watching lazily as Arthur licked his lips greedily at the sight before kicking off his boxers and trousers in one fluid move.

Alfred tried to prop himself up on his elbows, but Arthur pushed him back down again, his fiercely dominant and lustful look convincing Alfred to do whatever the Englishman wanted. His sea-green eyes were dancing and his face was flushed, most of the blood otherwise diverted. His hair was sticking up in uneven spikes, made stiff by his sweat, his shirt was half-hanging off his body and at that moment, Alfred loved more than he had ever thought possible. It was like a huge hole had opened up in his chest, directly over his heart, and it was screaming Arthur's name. All he wanted was to be filled, stretched to the point of breaking into a thousand beautiful pieces by Arthur, his nation, his gentleman.

Arthur reached down, unaware of Alfred's blissfully passionate needs, and gently caressed the inside of his lover's thighs, avoiding the spot that needed the most attention. Alfred whimpered, desperately clutching at his hair, not even daring to try and raise his hips. He did, however, try to beg.

"Oh, God...Arthur...Arthur, please, _please_..."

"Please what?" Arthur breathed, his hands stroking closer, and then moving away again, relishing the frustration that tore through the other's body. Alfred reached up, scrabbling at Arthur's chest, but his chewed fingernails had no purchase and he fell back, defeated and needy.

"Please...take me," he muttered, faking the humiliation that he knew Arthur wanted to see with these three simple words. Arthur breathed out heavily, managing to mix it with an aroused moan that made the hair on the back of Alfred's neck stand on end in anticipation.

One of Arthur's hands moved to spread Alfred's legs, while the other gently circled his entrance, making him wildly arch his back off the sofa as he panted like an animal. His member was quivering in need, but Arthur was making this as slow and drawn-out as he could possibly bear – he wanted Alfred's first time to be the most memorable of all.

A single digit, smooth and tantalizing, slipped into Alfred, coaxing a low shriek from the receiving nation. Arthur drank the sound up; hoisting his shirt up where it was slipping down, and yet managing to keep it lopsided, he relished the feeling of Alfred, tight and hot and increasingly wet around him.

There was no pain, even though Alfred had tensed up the moment Arthur entered him. There was just bliss, beautiful ecstasy that was marred by the fact that Alfred positively _needed _more. One finger wasn't enough, and it would never be enough, not until Arthur was actually inside him, and they were one in their rapture.

Arthur leant over the American beneath him and gently nuzzled his neck, planting soft kisses along his face and neck. Alfred was almost too lost to reciprocate, but reciprocate he did, managing to capture Arthur's lips whenever they brushed his.

"Are you okay?" Arthur asked, the hint of a lustful growl in his otherwise perfectly composed voice making Alfred toss his head back under the other's stimulation.

"Never...better," he gasped. "Now, come...on."

He rocked his hips to emphasize his point, and Arthur smiled into Alfred's shoulder before the finger buried inside him curled slightly. Alfred jolted and groaned as the pleasure sent waves of sensation across his body, and Arthur left him no time to savour it, because he added a second finger the moment Alfred had tried to catch his breath.

"Oh, _God_," the blue-eyed nation moaned in desire. Arthur pulled back and glanced down, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he committed the image of two of his digits buried deep in Alfred to memory for eternity. His cheeks were flushed and his heartbeat pounded in his ears, but he, just like Alfred, was desperate for relief, and knew that he couldn't hold up the pretence of a tease much longer.

Sitting back, he reached up to run a hand through his hair, messing it up further. Alfred gazed up at him, and the Englishman smirked.

"Not still scared, are you?" he asked innocently, pumping his fingers once to prove his – well, _a _point.

Alfred's toes curled as he readied himself for another, delicious thrust, but he was quickly disappointed, and he raised his arm to gently caress Arthur's hips, making small encouraging noises as he did so.

"Not scared," he managed to get out. "No...not scared."

"Oh, good." And then Arthur added a third finger.

Alfred immediately arched away from him, shying away from the small twinge of pain that had been introduced. Only a millisecond passed before Arthur was back at his throat, kissing along his jaw, whispering small words of reassurance to him as he stilled to help him adjusted. There was even an apology or two mixed in there as well.

Alfred's right arm encircled Arthur's waist, pulling him closer for a moment, and then releasing him.

"It's okay," he murmured softly in his lover's ear. "I'm okay. First time. You were right. Just...go slowly, please."

Arthur nodded, making sure that there was no uncomfort in his actions as he slowly but surely spread his three fingers, scissoring them inside Alfred to help him prepare. The American let out his breath through his teeth as he tried to interpret the signals his brain was getting – pleasure, a slight burn, and yet more pleasure.

But the burning feeling was fading, and all Alfred wanted to do was lie there while Arthur slammed into him all night long, making the most beautiful grunts as he did so.

After he had spread his fingers as far as he dared, Arthur slowly began pulling them out and then pushing them back in, his motions small at first, but growing both in size and confidence. Alfred clapped his hand over his mouth, mortified by the sounds he was producing, but Arthur reached down and tugged it away, his tongue tracing Alfred's lips as he drank up the noises currently spilling from the American in response to his current occupation.

Arthur's kisses were wet and possessive, but that only added to the romance. Sometimes he would only catch Alfred's lower lip and part of his chin, roving his tongue over the perfect skin he found there, and sometimes he would return to Alfred's neck, caressing the straining muscles as the nation below him grew closer to his release.

Alfred flung his arm around Arthur's shoulders, pulling him closer so he could clumsily but lovingly whisper in his ear.

"Come on," he hissed. "Just _fuck _me already."

Arthur felt a tingle shoot down his spine at the American's intensely fervent words, and he immediately pulled his fingers out, raising his hand to messily smear the liquids they had accumulated over the lower half of his face. Alfred watched him silently, but the burning blush that was building up on his face made it apparent that he was more aroused by this than he wanted to let on.

Reaching over Alfred's shoulders to brace himself against the arm of the sofa, Arthur guided his member to Alfred's slick entrance, pausing for a second to glance up, still afraid of accidentally hurting the other.

Alfred nodded once, too desperate to waste his energy on anything else, and Arthur moved.

The initial response was to back away, but the sofa was barely holding the two of them as it was, so Alfred had to stay where he was. It was beautiful, it was heavenly, but it was almost uncomfortable. Arthur had breached him so gently, carefully watching his expression for any hint of pain, but Alfred would never have shown it anyway. He didn't need another reason for Arthur to unknowingly reject him.

The Englishman was a still as a statue, despite his body practically shaking with need. He had never imagined that Alfred could be so _tight_, and yet he managed to take him without a problem, that wet heat already contracting around his erection. He gasped and his eyes squeezed shut, heroically resisting the urge to just _move._

The two nations' ragged breathing was the only thing audible in the room. The film had ended a long time ago, and the power to the TV had eventually shut off. The darkness was all around them, but to Alfred, Arthur was the light that chased the shadows away.

"Ah, God..." Arthur moaned, unable to restrain himself. Alfred's head tilted back as his body tried to interpret the many signals coming from their connection. It was slightly sore, but it was okay, he was adjusting – he just had to wait for a few more seconds and it would all sort itself out. And then there was the ecstasy, what Alfred had been waiting for throughout the whole thing, and the emotional pleasure, which was: _Arthur's inside me. This is what it feels like._

The moment this thought entered Alfred's head, he trembled with the strength of the feeling. All he wanted, right now, was to feel Arthur come in him and claim him for his own.

"You...okay?" the green-eyed country choked out, quickly focusing on Alfred's almost blank expression. "A-alfred?"

Alfred nodded quickly, and held up one finger. Arthur bit his lip and waited, for him, because if it was anyone else, he might've already started moving by now.

"Okay," Alfred finally breathed, his muscles relaxing into a more comfortable position as he decided to just let Arthur get on with it. "Okay, I'm – I'm good."

"Are you sure?" Arthur's voice was strained, and Alfred immediately picked up on it.

He smiled slightly, raising himself up so he could press a hasty kiss to Arthur's parted lips. "Ye-yes, yes, I'm sure. N-now, for God's sake, m-move!"

The first thrust, hesitantly testing, made Alfred's fists clench and his legs stretch out. He was almost too tight for Arthur, but the preparation had done its job, and the opening pain was practically gone. Arthur was trying to be gentle, and his whole body was wracked with tension because of it, but he was the ultimate British gentleman, so he could do it. He could grin and bear it.

The second push was more confident, and Alfred rocked his hips with it. This simple motion made it easier for Arthur to slide in and out. He began to pick up the pace, and every time he forced himself into Alfred – each time, it was getting easier – a small, erotic moan from the American would accompany it. These groans rose into full-blown screams of pleasure as Arthur got harder, pounding into that wet, hot space, his mind completely blank except for that one sentence he was obeying utterly.

_Just slam into him. _

Arthur's movements were so determined that the two nations almost moved as one. Alfred could sense whenever the other was going to get faster, or try to aim deeper, and he would change his position to accommodate him. His legs ended up wrapped around Arthur's waist, pressing himself as close to him as he could, their sweat-glazed torsos sliding against each other. Their cries were almost harmonious, almost the same as they drew closer.

Arthur angled himself slightly and accidentally hit a sweet-spot deep inside Alfred, making him toss his head back, his shriek of bliss echoing throughout the entire house. Arthur was frozen for a moment in shock, and then he began to thrust again, making sure to sneakily touch that spot again and again. Alfred tossed his head from side to side, and finally came, with a silent yell, his fluids coating both his and Arthur's stomachs. At the sight of the American, lost in his newfound world of the utmost rapture, Arthur gritted his teeth as he finally reached his orgasm, emptying himself in Alfred, filling him to the brim. His predatory growl reached Alfred, lost as he was, and he shuddered in response, opening his eyes slightly so he could see his Englishman recovering from his violent release.

"Aah..." Alfred's moan was little more than a small sound of amazement. He reached up, his motions weary but strong, and let Arthur pull out of him before tugging him closer, their bodies intertwined, exhausted but satisfied. Arthur rested his head on Alfred's shoulder and listened to his heartbeat, the powerful organ quickly settling back into its normal rhythm just as Arthur's did.

Alfred kissed the top of his head, nuzzling his hair and making Arthur grin sleepily.

"Silly little virgin," he murmured fondly.

Alfred grinned knowingly. "Not anymore," he replied.

THE END

* * *

**Because I like seme!Iggy, too. ;) And, umm, yeah, GoldenJuiceBox, when you said **_**fluff**_...

**I think I made this way too complicated than it needed to be...and it's not exactly fluffy, is it...ah, well. Review and tell me what you thought. It would be forever appreciated if you did. :D**


End file.
